Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Lacing shoes in Chinese

Speaking of Chinese names, this site takes your name, characteristic, gender, and date of birth, then gives you your Chinese name. I’m Ma ke lan – science, perceive. Eastern thought. I’m from the West. No frame of reference. My other is Shi Kuai han – quick, extensive.

Continuing Chinese, Li Bai (Po) wrote beautiful poetry:

Facing my wine, I did not see the dusk,
Falling blossoms have filled the folds of my clothes.
Drunk, I rise and approach the moon in the stream,
Birds are far off, people too are few.

More here.

Want an example of Eastern symmetry? Read the poem again. Seems the dude, in real life, got drunk, was in a boat, leaned forward to embrace the reflection of the Moon, and drowned. Ironic.

Is it April 1st yet? This site claims to be able to track the location of any cell phone to within ten meters. So I put in my boss’ number. Whoops!

Some dads will do anything to be liked even if their kid is put in harm’s way. Amazing. Slow start, predictable but humorous finish. Wonder what the dog was thinking.

When I first started to work after college, an engineer jokingly plugged an extension cord into itself and called it a “perpetual energy machine.” Not to be outdone, lo these 26 years hence, here’s a sign warning you to not hit your head on the sign. Rather self-fulfilling, eh?

I think guide horses for the sight impaired is a great idea. But how do you read Braille on a website? You can’t right? Maybe some monitors react … no. Just use audio. So is the Braille an inside joke? That would be cruel, and these horses are so cute. There has to be a reason. But wait, you read Braille with your finger tips, not your eyes. I’m confused. Whatever.

What a great website. The man is really into lacing his shoes. Here’s the math supporting his assertion that there are two trillion variations. Look to the left for links showing differing ways to tie your shoes. Everybody’s gotta be obsessed with something – and this guy does it right. Truly disturbed. God bless him.

Making predictions on the news with an 85% success rate. Odds are 8:1 a pub wins the 2008 election. I agree. 9:2 Hillary doesn’t get dem nod. Yes. Even money on Cheney finishing term. Sure. I feel strongly both ways. The site is not well-managed in that some issues are repeated when the bidding should be combined for such repeats.

Sunday, March 25, 2007

Paranoia can kill

Remember, just because you can’t see me, doesn’t mean that I am not aware that you are watching me. I’m actually the one with the facts. You are speculating: trying, trying to probe, to interpret. Relax; you are not paranoid if you are simply recognizing a fact. No one, my putative friend, is invisible.

Sorry. Where was I? Oh yeah!

I found this site, 20q.net, to be fun. You think of something, and it asks questions, eventually making a guess as to what you are thinking about. It beats me more often than I beat it. I guess it shouldn’t be too amazing – it is precisely what a computer is best at: accumulating, sorting, and reducing data.

This is a great country. This dude owns a coffee business. His rival let their website domain name registration lapse. Our hero donned his cape, scooped up the domain name, and caused any attempts to access the site to take you to the Urban Dictionary, specifically to the definition of a-hole. Dude got an Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress slap of $37,000. Still waiting on punitives.

Corrections in newspapers can be fun, but this one is bizarre. I reprint it in full here: “An article about Lord Lambton (Lord Louche, sex king of Chiantishire, News Review, January 7) falsely stated that his son Ned (now Lord Durham) and daughter Catherine held a party at Lord Lambton’s villa, Cetinale, in 1997, which degenerated into such an orgy that Lord Lambton banned them from Cetinale for years. In fact, Lord Durham does not have a sister called Catherine (that is the name of his former wife), there has not been any orgiastic party of any kind and Lord Lambton did not ban him (or Catherine) from Cetinale at all. We apologise sincerely to Lord Durham for the hurt and embarrassment caused.”

So, no orgy, no ban, wrong name … seems not quite a basis for a “correction” as much as an investigation.

Did you that rock-papers-scissors has a World RPS Society? They supply the official rules. They run tournaments. Some guy in a pirate suit is the world champion. Won $7,000 Canadian. I think that’s about a buck two eighty.

So this 14 year-old kid is in the passenger seat. His mom hits a utility pole. Kid dead. Bummer. His friends go to the scene and hold a vigil. It gets late. Four in the morning. Everyone leaves except one kid. Plays guitar, wants to sing alone a little bit. (How do you make the sound of a car screaming by and hitting a guitar-playing kid? – yeah, that sound) Dead. Kinda funny. You know, in a whoa-what-a-coincidence way. Poor kid. Bad spot in the road, eh? Yeah, what a shame. Somebody oughta put in a street light or a sign or something. Oh, wait, that woman hit a “utility” pole. Took out the light? How, um, ironic.

NCAA pool update. Georgetown just beat UNC. Incredible that they came back to force overtime – and that trounced UNC in OT. The pool is down to two of us now. We both picked Florida to the championship. The difference is the G’town and OSU game. If OSU wins, the pool is hers, and I get 2d place. If G’town wins, it is all mine …

Gotta go …

Maybe Zsa Zsa should be a man

I just feel like writing for a bit. Maybe I’ll find something useful to link.

I did the laundry today. Five loads. I love folding clean clothes and distributing them to everyone. It gives me a sense of accomplishment. Tomorrow I iron. I’ve been damn lazy about ironing – just doing the things I need for the next week. I may do it all tomorrow. Hanging up an ironed shirt is cool.

A few words for the guys that think housework is beneath them: blow me.

Ohio State beat Memphis today. I need Georgetown to go to the final game – two more wins. I had to distinguish my entry in the company pool somehow. The worst I can do is third. If Georgetown wins two, no other games matter – I will the pool. I think the top prize is a nice iPod … not sure. I don’t pay attention to such things. For me, the process of winning is what matters. That’s why I do well at the poker table. If you care only about the process, then you never let a card go unnoticed. If you never miss a card, you rarely lose for the night.

So Zsa Zsa Gabor’s husband, Prince (Prince?) Frederic von Anhalt, claims that he’s been nailing Anna Nicole for decades. That would be more than one. Nicole died at age 39. He was banging her since she was 19?

The guy says that Zsa Zsa, age 90 now, “was angry after he announced last month that he could be Dannielynn's father, but added that she has since forgiven him.”

Ninety? How would that conversation go?

Z: Dahling! How could you do such a thing to me?
P: But Zsa Zsa, you ever see that girl’s tits? Man!
Z: Dahling, you hurt me terrible with such talk.
P: Cut me a break, Z. I mean, my god, look at you. Your frickin’ old. You’re staring down the century mark, and think I could do only you? You ever smell yourself around 3 AM? Why do you think I bring home all the bark bags from our flights everywhere? Zsa Zsa, I love you, you know that. My sun rises and sets on you. But sticking it in you is like sticking it in a hallway. A cold, dark, drafty hallway. Only rarely is there a semblance of a leak in the roof. You’re dried up, Z. God, I want to vomit just talking about it.
Z: OK, then, I forgive you!

Was he just so good with his dick that his wife wanted one of her own? Married 17 years; divorced 18 months. He (the original guy) is paying alimony. His ex-wife (the new guy) transgendered completely. The original guy says he should be able to stop paying now that she’s a he. The court is going to rule on it, but it makes no sense. Payments will go forward. The only circumventing events in paying alimony are material change in financial condition and subsequent re-marriage.

How do you explain to your new wife that the “Tony” you are sending the alimony to is actually your ex-wife Susan? I guess you could look at pictures and see the resemblance. Do they stop shaving their legs? Does the gaseous volume of their farts increase? (That’s the only difference between men and women – the farts have the same amount of stink, our’s are just bigger.

How bad in bed to do you have to be to have your wife no longer even want to have a vagina, let alone allow you to touch it?

Speaking of interesting relationships, I realized tonight that everyone that I have lived with as an adult – except for my daughter – wound up in therapy. It’s like a record of some sort. You see, too many people play the game badly. They are lazy slobs that expect the others in the home to do everything but the “manly” things. Learn how to cook. Clean up after yourself and everyone else, and don’t look for approval like you’re a six-year old. Just do shit. Then you will realize how to mess with their heads by … I can’t let out my secrets. Sorry.

I can feel a deep flip coming … better post this before I am gone.

Saturday, March 24, 2007

Farts in a bottle

Your party going slowly, but you know someone prone to seizures? This site will be sure to start everyone break-dancing … fun can only follow!

I was never too good at science, but I do waft some rather prodigious farts. Given a modification of this device, I could probably keep a fan running all night to cool me on sultry evenings. I would have to figure out a real-time feed from my Southern exposure to the jar so that I could continue to sleep. The feed would have to be flexible and non-invasive. Very non-invasive. I could tape a Ziploc to my ass and attach a rubber hose. But the circumference of the hose would slow the movement of the expelled gas. Ah, but perhaps when I rolled over, the bag would squeeze and propel the gas through … no, wait, I am starting to feel the tape pulling on the hairs of my ass. I am thinking about this way too much. I’ll just buy a fan and plug it in. Into the wall.

Seems my daughter isn’t the only one getting nailed for being non-conformist. This girl wears Tigger socks and get slapped with detention. They call their detention program called “Students With Attitude Problems.” (Note: in titles, only the first, last, and important words are capitalized. “With” is none of these. No wonder schools graduate functional illiterates; they have learned exactly what their teachers taught them.)

The ACLU is on the case. Gotta love libs sometimes.

Speaking of free speech and schools, Morse v. Frederick was argued in front of SCOTUS the other day. An Alaskan youth (Frederick) made a sign that read, “Bong Hits 4 Jesus.” He stood among a crowd, on a public sidewalk, in front of private homes, waiting for the Olympic Torch Relay parade, and displayed the banner just for the purpose of getting on TV. The school tossed him. SCOTUS will issue its ruling in several weeks. Here is a law article describing the case. Here are the prior decisions and briefs filed with SCOTUS.

It is truly remarkable how society reacts when someone steps out of their ill-defined lines.

I love things like this: “Thinking like a Genius”. As if you could look at a list, practice it, and figure out how to correct Newton’s equations for the unaccounted-for wobble in Venus. “Visualize! Produce! Make novel combinations!” Oh. Picture what my face will look like when I stick the fork in the wall socket? Make something, anything? How about a jello-filled parka? That would satisfy both of the last two items, eh? Think of the thermal protection afforded by the density of jello, and the survivalist advantage to the sugar-intense substance if you get lost in the woods.

You want to get smart? Turn off the television. Read something other that Sports Illustrated, Penthouse Forum, and cheap novels. Think of your brain as a muscle, and exercise it. I knew a guy once that bought tapes to “enrich” his “vocabulary.” It promised to “propel” his “career to new levels.” Do you know what you sound like when you say, “it is challenging to understand her because she cannot propound a clear question”? Or, “I find his pedantic manner difficult at times, didactic even.” We stand at look at you – knowing full well the meaning of the words you used – and collectively think, “Who farted?”

Want some rules? Be comfortable in your intellect. Exercise your brain through reading history, law, and physics. Stop drinking. Quit defining a “productive” day by the sole criteria that you got laid.

Ok, enough for now. Oh, last thought. Remember the pastor of the school my daughter is no longer with? He actually called her new school to speak with the head guy there. I e’d the pastor to help me understand his actions. I am looking forward to his response. I think a formal complaint letter to the Pennsylvania Department of Education and a cease-and-desist letter from a local attorney citing malicious interference with education choice may be in the future. What fun!

Friday, March 23, 2007

Free Speech & K-12 Private Schools

UPDATE - My daughter has since killed off the websites that had her cartoons, so the links below are junk. I blogged some of her cartoons here, with narrative.

In 1977, David Berkowitz was murdering people in New York City (busted when he got to six). Upon his capture and subsequent disposition, the New York State legislature wrote what was known as the “Son of Sam” Act (N.Y.Exec.Law 632-a (McKinney 1982 and Supp. 1991); the law served as a model for 41 other states as they following suit on the concept. The pressing issue was that David Berkowitz, the “Son of Sam” killer was rumored to have been in negotiations to sell the rights to his heinous acts, thereby making a profit from deviance. The newly enacted NYS law required the receivers of monies under contract with a criminal, that is, generally, the publishing house, to turn over any payments due to a person such as Berkowitz to the Crime Victims Compensation Board. The monies would be paid to bona fide victims of the criminal, and any funds left after five years would be released to the criminal.

Berkowitz never went forward with his plans to sell his rights and profit from the sale. Even if he did, the statute would not have applied to him – it applied to convicted criminals, and Berkowitz was deemed too insane to stand trial, hence no conviction (he was eventually sentenced following a plea). Henry Hill, a quasi-Mafia thug, however, did sell his rights post-conviction. The result was, in part, the movie “Goodfellas.” NYS took his profits and placed them in escrow, all pursuant to the Son of Sam law. Hill fought the taking to the U.S. Supreme Court.

Former SCOTUS Justice Sandra Day O’Conner wrote the majority opinion in Simon and Schuster, Inc. v. New York Victims Crime Board, 502 U.S. 105 (1991), which tossed the Son of Sam law as an unconstitutional infringement on free speech. The determining factor was that the law quashed speech based upon its content. If, for example, Henry Hill wrote gardening books, that income was left untouched by the statute. Only the income derived from the words about his crimes was subject to seizure.

Thou shall not condemn speech based purely upon content. Place and manner are important.

The statute, of course, was a government action. The First Amendment curtails government action. Governments run the public school system, so many constitutional freedoms including free speech likewise are ripe for discussion in that arena.

Tinker v. Des Moines Independent Community School District (1969 – you can find your own cites now!). In December 1965, Des Moines, Iowa, public school principals adopted a policy that students who wore black armbands to protest U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War would be asked to remove the armbands and suspended if they refused. A suspension would not be lifted until the student returned to school without the armband. Students ignored the policy and were indefinitely suspended from school. Two high school students and one junior high school student brought suit against the school district, arguing that the principal’s actions violated their First Amendment right of free speech.

Specifically, the Court held, [i]t can hardly be argued that either students or teachers shed their constitutional rights to freedom of speech or expression at the schoolhouse gate.”

Further, “[i]n our system, state-operated schools may not be enclaves of totalitarianism. School officials do not possess absolute authority over their students. Students in school as well as out of school are “persons” under our Constitution. They possess fundamental rights which the State must respect, just as they themselves must respect their obligations to the State.

“[I]f he does so without materially and substantially interfer[ing] with the requirements of appropriate discipline in the operation of the school, and without colliding with the rights of others. . . . [C]onduct by the student, in class or out of it, which for any reason--whether it stems from time, place, or type of behavior-- materially disrupts classwork or involves substantial disorder or invasion of the rights of others is, of course, not immunized by the constitutional guarantee of freedom of speech.”

Ah, so again – Thou shall not condemn speech based purely upon content. Place and manner are important.

But how does this standard apply to private schools, that is, schools not “owned and operated” by the government?

As a general statement, there is a fundamental distinction between public and private school students under the First Amendment. The First Amendment and the other provisions of the Bill of Rights limit the government from infringing on an individual's rights. Public school officials act as part of the government and are called state actors. As such, they must act according to the principles in the Bill of Rights. Private schools, however, aren’t arms of the government. Therefore, the First Amendment does not provide protection for students at private schools.

Does that mean that private schools can stomp on the constitutional rights of its students with impunity? Apparently.

My daughter, until a few days ago, attended a Christian school. I got a call from the pastor running the school on Sunday evening around 7:30 PM – Jourdaine is not longer welcome at our school, effective immediately.

Gee, thanks for the reaction time. How professional of you.

The cause? Cartoons. (Where's an angry Muslem when you need him? Oh yeah, they didn't like cartoons either. I guess that is kinda sorta like the school's position. When did cartoons become the basis for hate in this world?). Her cartoons and my stated support for her pushing the limits of free speech. Parent the deviance you see. Push it down and Freud will tell you about sublimation, and how that deviance will just pop up somewhere else – only out of your parental sight.

But, but the Golden Rule of free speech: Thou shall not condemn speech based purely upon content. Place and manner are important.

Where were these cartoons? On the internet! Not on school premises. Not circulated or advertised on school premises. Well, then, how, pray tell did the link get established? What a great question!

Seems my daughter was asked by another student during study hall (horrors!) what she wanted for her 16th birthday. “Cheap vodka and strippers,” she said. Rather humorous. Well, enter Peyton Place Volunteer Mom!

Peyton Place Volunteer Mom investigates my daughter on the net and finds her cartoons horrors!). Peyton Place Volunteer Mom rushes into the school and tells everyone that will listen – or at least the pastor! "Run for the hills!" Peyton Place Volunteer Mom says, "run for the hills! There be a non-conformist amongst us! Run, run, I tell you! She is evil and dresses differently! Burn the witch! Bring out the dead! Hang the rich! That little vixen whore must die because I haven't had an orgasm in ... ever! I don't even think orgasms exist! And if they do they are evil! Devil's worship! Oh, I want one so badly. I've tried everything from organic produce to the dog ... oh, wait, did I say that outloud!?! Horrors! Shame be onto me! Where's the device? I must administer a cold vinegar enema immediately! Out of my way, whorelots! I'm coming through! Can't find the device. Hey boy, you using that soda bottle? Yeah, the one with the long neck. I need it. Thanks. Bless you." Two minutes later, in mumbled tones. "Oh, yes, deeper, now out, now back in. Ohhhh, deeper!"

Phone call to me from pastor, discussion of parenting known versus unknown deviance, strong letter that followed condemning the shallowness of Peyton Place Volunteer Mom (specifically leaving out the Diet Pepsi-Cold Vinegar-Buggary issue), Board meeting, and viola! Instant and permanent expulsion! High five! (In fairness, I just read "the letter" which contained a decided difference in word choice: withdrawn by mutual agreement.)

But wait! Hold the presses! Does the private religious school take any government money? That would certainly get government hands into the mix somehow. Let’s see … school buses … taxpayer financing … yes! Government money supporting the school! School buses too weak an argument. Everyone treated the same - public, private, secular, non-secular.

Think, think, think … how can this translate to Constitutional freedoms in out-of-school activities remaining a non-basis for expulsion? Hmmm …

In higher education, college students receiving assistance under the federal Basic Educational Opportunity Grants program (BEOG) subject the college to the provisions of Title IX, which bars sex discrimination by institutions receiving “federal financial assistance.” The U.S. Supreme Court so ruled in Grove City College v. Bell in 1984.

While Grove City is accepted by many as proof that government funding leads to government control, a different perspective was provided by the late William Bentley Ball, an expert on this subject who argued 10 cases before the U.S. Supreme Court.

“[I]n enacting the BEOG program,” explained Ball, “[Congress] had expressly declared that a specific purpose of the BEOGs was in fact to ‘provide assistance to institutions of higher education.’ Further, the Court said that Congress had specifically intended Title IX requirements to be closely tied to the BEOG statute.”

Thus, the Court did not hold that government-funded student aid justifies government regulations, but said this particular form of aid was meant for institutions.

Yet, in Grove City, SCOTUS ruled that any college or university is to be considered a recipient of government money – and therefore subject to government regulation of its financial aid program – if even one of its students receives a federal loan or grant. And on top of that, Congress subsequently passed the so-called "Civil Rights Restoration Act," to extend federal regulation over all of these schools' programs, if even one student uses federal money to attend them.

So institutions of higher education can feel the reach of some government oversight if their students accept financial aid. But what about K-12? Vouchers! Maybe vouchers?

SCOTUS has cleared the way for vouchers with its 2002 decision in Zelman v. Simmons-Harris, which held that voucher programs that allow students to attend religious schools do not violate the First Amendment. So government money can find its way to K-12, and even to religious schools. Getting warmer …

It seems always true that government money means government control. In the long run, private schools won’t be so private at all, or much different from the government schools to which they were intended to provide an alternative. Every available historical example makes it clear that when government provides money for something, government expects control over that thing; it’s happened with higher education in this country, and it’s happened with primary and secondary education around the world. (Around the world? Why do we care about evolving standards around the world? My children, remember when we vacated the juvenile death penalty laws because of France?)

But couldn’t some private schools turn down vouchers? They could, but there would be strong financial incentives against doing so, when all of their competitors will take them. In higher education, only two schools (Grove City College and Hillsdale College) have had the balls to turn down government funds and avoid government control. Why would we expect things to be any different for primary and secondary education?

So, government money will open the door to regulation. Will the regulation mean that out-of-school activities cannot become a basis for in-school action, provided the out-of-school activity does not disrupt the classroom? Eventually, yes. Patience, Pooh, patience.

Golden Rule – Thou shall not condemn speech based purely upon content. Place and manner are important.

Thursday, March 15, 2007

thoughts

So now Viagra is seen to be useful for recovery from a heart attack or stroke. Will the label read: “Side effects: Pocket rocket with lit fuse (e.g., throbbing erection)”? How do they come up with these alternative uses? What’s next? Compound W, known for use in reducing external warts, has been tested for reducing diverticula. Oh, you mean, I was supposed to shove it up my ass? Now you tell me.

My boss used to be a PA State Trooper. He saw a guy sitting in a car; he looked ill and my boss approached. Seemed the guy was fully engaged with the chicken in his lap. The chicken subsequently died. The guy was charged with cruelty to animals. What was the guy thinking as he approached the chicken coop? Was there more than one chicken to choose from? What criteria are used to select the best one – more dark meat? What was the chicken thinking as the guy, um, exposed himself? What is wrong with people?

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I sit in a bright yellow room. A bunch of bananas are set on a white plate. Through an open window, a summer breeze blows white cotton curtains. An unfinished wooden table is surrounded by six mismatched chairs. An old percolator holds freshly made coffee. My bare feet rest on a worn pickled-white wide-plank floor. Sitting in my grey flannel pajamas, I write in my journal to the person not sitting next to me.

Sunday, March 4, 2007

The Tao of Ice Fishing

I watched three men ice fishing: one alone, two together. They were perhaps one hundred yards apart, each with their primary hole for jigging and several tip-ups. The two men were unable to sit for any duration. They cleaned their holes of new ice every few minutes. The lone fisherman couldn’t help but watch their activity through binoculars.

No flags tipped. No fish were raised.

I stood in a ceaseless wind, dropping the ambient temperature of 34 degrees to somewhere in the 20s. My ears stung, as did my legs when the cold wind ripped through the holes in my jeans. I admired, perhaps for the first time in my life, the one-piece winter outfits within which they braved the cold for hours.

Somewhere beneath the surface, fish lethargically compelled themselves to move else they would die from lack of oxygen. Was it too cold for them to eat? Certainly their hunting instinct was dulled as their need for food was reduced because of their lowered body temperature. The bait was probably neon salmon eggs; I didn’t see a bait bucket for minnows. “What is that orange ball?” the fish thought as it flexed its tail to continue its endless journey around the lake’s bottom.

Another man pulled into the parking lot, not dressed like the others. He buttoned his flannel shirt and uttered a friendly obscenity as he acknowledged me. He was carrying a plastic grocery bag. I watched as he took a bag from within it, and emptied the contents in a pile. He was leaving breadcrumbs for the ducks and geese to eat upon their return from wherever they spent their day. He set three piles and silently returned to his truck. Everyone contributes in their own way.

I watched this broad interaction with nature as my body shook trying to warm itself. The shaking became a distraction as my body took over where my brain refused to act in seeking warmth. Another car pulled up with an older couple within it. I thought they intended to enjoy the passion play as I was, but they left within just a few minutes. Perhaps they were seeking privacy and found none. Although they parked close to me, they never acknowledged my presence.

The sun was setting and the cold accelerated. Still, no flags, no fish.

The arrangement of tip-ups in each camp, six in one and nine in the other, were set as loose triangles angling away from the primary hole, and both sets going from right to left. This arrangement meant the lone fisherman had to turn his back on his array in order to peer at his competitors. Certainly, he would not move his inventory if they were successful; it was too late in the day. He was just lonely on the ice, and was willing to deny the very reason he was on the ice to combat his loneliness. His company was a thirst for knowledge in a barren place and an envy of their companionship and productive-less activity.

Ice fishing is by its nature done on a landscape barren of information. Everything you learn is through touch. The only visual is the depth of the ice from opening a hole. You quickly learn whether you should be thankful for not breaking through the thin ice or can have a sense of safety, and therefore peace, as the thickness yields to your cutting. Once the hole is augured through the surface, all you can do is drop a tethered weight into black water to find the bottom. The lines are set at differing distances above the bottom.

Nothing more is seen. Everything is on faith. Your faith is tested with each blast of wind on the open terrain. As your faith weakens, you search to understand the activity of other fishermen, or, as in the case of the two-man camp, you scurry from hole to hole peering into the blackness trying to sense a fish lurking beneath the surface not unlike trying to read tea leaves in a cup without leaves.

My body was shaking too much to stay any longer. The temporary visits to my car no longer warmed me. I drove away haltingly as my left leg bounced my clutch in and out of gear.

I’ve come home from ice fishing often enough to know the stories that will be shared by the men I watched: The persistence of the cold, the hooks emptied by fish crafty enough to eat the neon prize but not raise the flag, the plans for setting tip-ups in a different configuration next time.

I hope that they also brought some fish to fry and enjoy as they relay their stories.